


Alduin is Dead

by Diablogarbage



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen, dragonborn feels regret, odahviing attempts to give comfort, paarthurnax is a grandpa and i love him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:34:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28381011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diablogarbage/pseuds/Diablogarbage
Summary: After his return from Sovngarde, Averiix knows he should celebrate his victory. Yet, he feels only remorse.
Kudos: 14





	Alduin is Dead

He awakens, slowly, blearily, vision spotty as he forces himself to sit up, pain wracking his body from head to toe. He feels the soft kisses of snow upon his cheeks, and large black shapes in his vision. He lifts a gauntlet clad hand to rub his eyes, his other hand removing his elven helm, and his pointed ears twitch at the sudden coldness. As his vision returns, he recognizes himself as being upon the Throat of the World. How had he gotten here? He's got no time to ponder that as he finally registers what each massive black shape is--dragons.  
Dragons. Countless dragons, more than he's ever seen in one place before. Paarthurnax upon his perch of the word wall is first to acknowledge the Altmer's now-conscious state, and that rumbling voice speaks out a single word in a warm tone of greeting, familiarity and soft congratulations all in one: "Dovahkiin".  
All at once the Throat of the World erupts into sound and action, Dovah all around beginning to roar and chant, some praises, some frustrations, some long and drawn out howls of agonies kept within for centuries, and Averiix winces at the sudden cacophony of noise.   
Dragons rise into the air on powerful leathery wings, propelling themselves to ride the wind currents, circling the mountaintop and continuing their songs. Averiix turns to Paarthurnax, wearily lifting himself to a stand, and the great dragon speaks again.  
"So," he rumbles, "it is done. Alduin dilon. The Eldest is no more, he who came before all others, and has always been."  
A frown twitches at the elf's face as he picks up in the note of sadness within the great dragon's tone. He trudges to the word wall, then slides down to sit, back against the cold stone as he gazes up at Paarthurnax.  
"You don't sound exactly happy about it," he observes sympathetically, pointed ears twitching slightly and angling down a bit. Paarthurnax laughs a sharp, bitter laugh in response, shaking his great head.  
"Happy? No, I am not happy," he sighs.  
"Why?" The Altmer asks, with a sincere curiosity and no malice to his tone. The elder Dragon pauses, shaking his great body before answering the Dovahkiin's question.  
"Zeymahi lost ont du'ul Bormahu," he says, before translating himself. "Alduin was once the crown of our father Akatosh's creation."  
Averiix nods quietly in understanding, lips pursed in thought.  
"You did what was necessary. Alduin had flown far from the path of right action in his pahlok--the arrogance of his power. But I cannot celebrate his fall," Paarthurnax continues, the old Dragon's voice solemn. Zu'u tiiraaz ahst ok mah. He was my brother once. This world will never be the same."  
"I was only fulfilling my destiny as the Dragonborn," Averiix insists quickly, removing the elven gauntlet from his hand and settling the bare flesh against the cold and yet somehow warm, hardened scales of Paarthurnax's neck.  
"Indeed, you saw more clearly than I - certainly more clearly than Alduin. Rok funta koraav. Perhaps now you have some insight into the forces that shape the vennesetiid... the currents of Time. Perhaps you begin to see the world as a dovah," Paarthurnax consoles softly, his ethereal gaze a comforting warmth as those milky blue eyes meet Averiix's own soft white ones. Averiix softly smiles, finding comfort in the Dovah's words. Paarthurnax sighs, turning his head to the skies, the light from the moon dancing in his eyes.  
"But I forget myself. Krosis," he rumbles. "So los mid fahdon. Melancholy is an easy trap for a dovah to fall into. You have won a mighty victory. Sahrot krongrah--one that will echo through all the ages of this world for those who have eyes to see. Savor your triumph, Dovahkiin. This is not the last of what you will write upon the currents of Time."  
The Altmer watches in awe as Paarthurnax bunches his muscles, springing into the skies upon tattered but powerful wings.   
""Goraan! I feel younger than I have in many an age. Many of the dovah are now scattered across Keizaal. Without Alduin's lordship, they may yet bow to the vahzen... rightness of my Thu'um," the elder Dragon roars, and Averiix can't help a grin as Paarthurnax turns his head to gaze upon him. "But willing or no, they will hear it! Fare thee well, Dovahkiin!"  
With another earth-shaking roar, the old one sets off, powerful wings catching the currents of the air as the moon glitters off his dulled white-grey scales, and he disappears into the night sky, the other Dovah following after him in tangen, leaving Averiix alone upon the snowy mountaintop.  
He stands again with a grunt, not bothering to replace his gauntlet as he trudges through the snow, to stand upon the edge of a small ledge, staring out at the horizon, at nothing. He should feel happy, he knows it. He should feel absolutely elated--he'd killed Alduin, fulfilled the prophecy. The world is safe. So why does he feel so empty and hollow?  
Another roar snaps him from his thoughtless haze, and he feels the weight of a Dragon land beside him. Red, glittering scales with a white underbelly and glowing gold eyes immediately indicate the Dragon is Odahviing.  
"You have triumphed," the young Dragon rumbles, settling himself down in the snow at Averiix's side. The Altmer nods, and sighs, sitting down and uncaringly leaning against the Dragon's scaley side.  
"I have," he agrees. "So why do I feel no triumph? I feel no pride or victorious joy. I only feel… Nothing." He goes quiet for a moment, lowering his hand to the snow and letting the powdery substance pass through his fingers, watching his fingertips redden from it. "I just don't understand," he whimpers.  
Odahviing shifts uncomfortably, not sure how to help this joor--this mortal--through such a confusing emotion. "I… Am unsure. Perhaps it is best for you to rest--you sustained quite the fall upon your return; perhaps you are still disoriented," he offers tentatively, but to his relief, Averiix seems to not feel like arguing. Instead the elf hangs his head and sighs, the billowing white mane of hair flowing down his shoulders like an ivory waterfall as the wind lightly whips it about. "Perhaps you're right. I don't have the strength to make it to the monastery, though. It took a lot of effort to make my way to here as is."  
A soft rumble of contemplation rumbles in the sleek red Dragon's chest, before he carefully drapes a wing over the Altmer, leathery warmth acting as a shield from the cold around. "Then rest here, Dovahkiin. I will stay."  
"You will?" Averiix asks, but he's already starting to slip off, brilliant silvery eyes hardly able to stay open and, despite himself, Odahviing grins a toothy grin. "I will," he assures, although the elf's already drifted off into a slumber. Odahviing contemplates this, peering at him through golden eyes before carefully shifting positions, to lay upon his side and wrap both warm, large wings about the elf's form, bringing him close to his warm chest. He chuffs softly, gazing up at the sky and the moon. Alduin is dead, and tomorrow is a new day, and he is eager for what the morn will bring.


End file.
